The Danger of Wishful Thinking
Last week, I believe on Thursday or Friday, something inspired me to read up, as I sometimes do, on German dueling societies and the practise of the Mensur.
This is a tradition (descended from the times when dueling was common and often fatal in German and other Central and Eastern European countries' universities) of testing the mettle of young men in fraternal collegiate societies. They dress in chain mail and take turns swinging huge swords at one another, trying to cut the other's face. The goal is less to cut the other man as to take a cut (or Schmiess--a smite) yourself without flinching. Traditionally the dueling scars that resulted were seen as a badge of honour and in some cases as a mode of entrée into the better circles of business and society.
I have often regretted that such a practise does not exist in the United States, and wondered if there might be some way to create and encourage it. Then, during our Mediæval Battle Association meeting Friday afternoon, a young lady smote me directly in the face, splitting my lip. I was not much distressed, (less so than she, certainly) and wiped the blood from my lip without another thought. When I was told by another Mediæval Battle Associate that there was blood on my teeth I was a bit unnerved, but not too much, although when yet another one told me (after I had applied my handkerchief to my face several times) that there was still blood in my beard, I began to wonder at the severity of it. When I finally had time after the meeting to examine the wound, I was a bit taken aback at the quantity of raw meat exposed on my lip, and devoted some time to cleaning it and even trimming part of my moustache away from it after I returned home.
Happily, within twenty-four hours the bleeding had stopped, and there is now a large scab on my lip. Although I hope it reaches a point where it no longer hurts to smile or spit, I cannot help but hope that an exciting looking scar remains that I may in the future describe as a dueling scar from my youth.
This is a tradition (descended from the times when dueling was common and often fatal in German and other Central and Eastern European countries' universities) of testing the mettle of young men in fraternal collegiate societies. They dress in chain mail and take turns swinging huge swords at one another, trying to cut the other's face. The goal is less to cut the other man as to take a cut (or Schmiess--a smite) yourself without flinching. Traditionally the dueling scars that resulted were seen as a badge of honour and in some cases as a mode of entrée into the better circles of business and society.
I have often regretted that such a practise does not exist in the United States, and wondered if there might be some way to create and encourage it. Then, during our Mediæval Battle Association meeting Friday afternoon, a young lady smote me directly in the face, splitting my lip. I was not much distressed, (less so than she, certainly) and wiped the blood from my lip without another thought. When I was told by another Mediæval Battle Associate that there was blood on my teeth I was a bit unnerved, but not too much, although when yet another one told me (after I had applied my handkerchief to my face several times) that there was still blood in my beard, I began to wonder at the severity of it. When I finally had time after the meeting to examine the wound, I was a bit taken aback at the quantity of raw meat exposed on my lip, and devoted some time to cleaning it and even trimming part of my moustache away from it after I returned home.
Happily, within twenty-four hours the bleeding had stopped, and there is now a large scab on my lip. Although I hope it reaches a point where it no longer hurts to smile or spit, I cannot help but hope that an exciting looking scar remains that I may in the future describe as a dueling scar from my youth.